Just a Flesh Wound
by Weiila
Summary: Inbetween Jak 2 and 3. Sig, Jak and Daxter are stuck in Haven Forest overnight with broken communicators and annoying wounds. Male bonding for the people!


_Author's Note: No, you may not kill me for the title. Written by request of my best friend FilthyJinx. _

_Disclaimer: All characters and locations are the property of Naughty Dog Inc. No money was made writing this piece of fanfiction._

Just a Flesh Wound

"Ain't this the lowest," Sig growled, throwing a few more sticks at the fire with his good arm.

His other arm dully throbbed, but the wound wasn't deep enough to cause him any acute alarm – it hurt like a bitch, sure, but getting into a defensive lean-to and making a fire to keep wild animals away had felt more pressing than bandages ten minutes ago. Of course, a fire could very well have the opposite effect on the metal heads, but at least their skull gems would make them visible in the dark long before they could launch an attack.

It was a pretty rough lean-to, just a couple of rocks conveniently leaning against each other. But there was also solid rock behind them, making it fairly safe. Better than camping out among the trees.

Jak just hummed in reply to Sig's comment, hunching down on the ground further inside the makeshift cave. Now that he had collected enough wood – though he'd done a pretty sloppy job in his haste, it'd do – he could focus on what had been on his mind while he hunted for sticks and Sig had tried to get the fire going.

There was a feeble squeak.

Sig looked up from scanning the dark outline of Haven forest, and raised a naked eyebrow at the sight. Jak sat cross-legged, face dipped down almost far enough to obscure his face. But the green eyebrows could still be seen, for once not crept low in anger but in concentration. Daxter laid splayed over the man's right thigh, clutching the knee beneath his chin and biting a loose fold of Jak's pants to keep from screaming.

Sig wavered between thinking that the ottsel was overdoing it, and thinking that he actually bore it better than expected. And it sure was a sight to see Jak's big, calloused hands working as carefully as he could manage. Jak just didn't seem cut out for such work, but under his fingers the gash on Daxter's tail was covered with a healing salve. The substance started its work within moments, and the thin little body shuddered into relaxation.

For a few seconds Jak sat still before continuing, giving Daxter a little while to cope before the treatment continued. When his tail was being wrapped up in bandages sliced up to better suit him, the ottsel only gave smaller signs of discomfort.

The metal head who had caused that wound had met an exceptionally grisly death.

Sometimes, Jak's devotion was downright chilling.

But then, Sig was in no position to complain – the beastie who had torn into his arm had also been reduced to mincemeat.

Well, on the other end of the spectrum was the fact that three grunts had been caught in mid-air above Jak, in a well aimed peace maker blast.

Give and get.

Sig had to admit that it was refreshing to actually be out in the field and know that you could safely turn your back on things. He couldn't even think of a situation in the wasteland where he had felt as sure about a companion.

The problem was that it seemed that they would be stuck in the field for a while.

That attack had been nasty, just what Ashelin and Samos had sent them down into the forest to deal with in the first place. And now they were way out and wounded, with Jak's communicator broken in half.

Sig had been thumbing his war amulet but decided against it. They were a long way from the wasteland and while not peachy, he had no doubt they could hold their own for a night. None of their wounds validated letting two outsiders in on the existence of Spargus, unless Jak suddenly fell down with a fever and infection. Not likely. Regardless, nothing had attacked them during the search for a place to spend the night, so the metal heads may as well have all gone down in that attack.

It was situations like these that made him feel even more secure in the fact that you always should assume there would be trouble. The rolled up sleeping mat he had thrown from his own pack into the small cave was proof of that.

"There."

Jak straightened up and pulled off his scarf, letting it slip to the ground. Then he carefully lifted Daxter and put him on the cloth, wrapping the small body up. Small blue eyes reflected the fire light while a normally grinning and babbling mouth only stretched a little in a drained smile. Jak rubbed a tiny shoulder with his thumb, then grabbed his backpack and stood.

Sig watched the motions, taking note of how stiff they were. Still, Jak did not flinch for a moment.

"You okay there, cherry?" Sig asked.

"Fine. Lemme see your arm," Jak said, dropping the backpack with a clacking sound as the eco ring hit a stone on the ground.

The older warrior paused for a second, but let it drop for the moment. He sat down and pulled off the glove from his left arm, the went to remove his shoulder armor. The old skull went a dull _thunk_ against the ground. While Jak dug in his backpack for another health pack, Sig turned his water flask over the three open cuts on his upper arm. It only stung marginally less this time from the last time he'd cleaned the wound, but he didn't make a sound.

He avoided looking more than necessary. Staring at your own wounds isn't a question of bravery, especially not when you've seen enough of them already.

A green glow moved into the corner of his vision and he set the flask down, offering his arm to Jak. The green eco based salve was frigid cold at first, but it soon began to numb his skin. The pain steadily grew lighter as Jak applied more of the goo.

When Jak pulled his hand back, Sig noted that tiny splinters of green eco clung to golden boy's fingers, seemingly having freed themselves from the emerald guck. They were gone by the time the hand returned with a fresh load of salve.

All three of them were silent, leaving only the lazy whisper of the trees to fill the air. Daxter must have been too out of it to speak.

Satisfied with the amount of salve, Jak took out a compress and new roll of bandage from his backpack, lifting Sig's arm to better reach. Sig held the compress himself while Jak started to wrap up the wound. Again it showed that chili pepper wasn't used to this kind of caretaking, he fumbled and rewrapped a couple of times. But despite the awkwardness he attacked this mission with the same focus as everything else.

Still…

Sig studied the deep scowl without commenting. Patience.

Eventually Jak fastened the loose end of the bandage with a clasp.

"Thanks, cherries," Sig said.

With a murmur, Jak sat back and started to pick at the medic tools.

He was still moving a little stiffly.

Sig waited another moment, still hoping for some common sense and less bullheadedness. But it seemed apparent that Jak would not say anything about it himself.

"And what about your back?" Sig finally asked.

Jak tensed as if he had heard a twig break.

"'m fine," he muttered.

"Drippin' all over the place?"

Without thinking Jak reached back, and withdrew a hand with fingertips tinted red and slimy. He winced.

"Lemme get it," Sig said.

"I'm fine!" Jak snarled.

The force of the growl made the wastelander raise his brow.

Silence hung between them for a moment as they regarded each other, Sig questioning and Jak defensive. The fire lazily crackled.

Finally, it was neither of the men who broke the silence. That was done by an expert in that art.

"M'ey, babe. C'mon."

The scarf on the ground moved and Daxter poked his head out.

"It's just Siggy, Jak," he said. "Quit the virgin game or I'll come out there and kick your ass."

"Heh…"

A mirthless smile touched Jak's lips and he snorted.

"I ain't letting you stalk about with that wide open, Jak," Sig said.

It was serious business when a real name was used instead of a nickname. Jak looked away.

"… fine," he muttered, reaching for his collar.

It was hard to tell if he was still unwilling or if it was the pain that made his motions rigid and slow. He grabbed the collar and started to pull, but froze up when Sig grabbed the health pack. The wastelander met the youngster's gaze, frowning. After a moment Jak's head dipped down, but not quick enough to hide the grimace.

"Cherries?" Sig said.

No reply. He glanced at Daxter, but the ottsel seemed transfixed – sitting up and hugging his knees while watching Jak intently.

It seemed like a decision was made.

With a whisper of cloth and a wet slap Jak pulled the shirt off and onto the ground. Blood was smeared over his shoulders and hair in the motion. That was the first thing Sig noted. The second thing was a collection of scars that made his own pale in compare – thin lines, small bumps and their shadows dancing in the flickering light, all over the exposed skin. And Jak looking away.

"Take a look while you have the chance, Siggo," Daxter said in the background. "That sight's one in a million to see."

"I ain't in it for the view," Sig sternly said. "Turn around, golden boy."

The order seemed to at least partly snap Jak out of it. He turned on the ground, but still kept his gaze averted.

The wound was just a little more than skin deep, two long gashes slanted across Jak's back from his shoulder blade towards his hip. But with him having smeared blood all over the place, it looked a whole lot worse than it was.

Sig picked up his flask again, pouring the last water across Jak's back, noting how there was only a tiny shudder in reply to the discomfort. Pink water streamed over his belt and dripped onto the ground, but Jak remained silent.

"You're gonna have to help me with the bandage in a minute, cherry," Sig said as he dropped the flask and dug his good hand into the health pack's innards. "I ain't up to using both- what?"

The moment Sig brushed a finger against one of the gashes, Jak recoiled from the contact.

"What are you, girl?" Sig said, scowling.

"Not the pain!" Jak growled, head bowed low.

The thick, blond locks of hair spilled over his shoulders, leaving his neck bare and vulnerable above his crimson tinted back.

With a loud sigh Daxter crawled out of his resting place and over the ground, trying to keep his tail from as much disturbance as possible.

"Now, I know you're one big prude about letting your gorgeous self be poked at," the ottsel said, "but lookit, that ain't no mean ol' KG or nuthin', it's just Sig. Y'know…"

He crawled into Jak's lap.

"… bit brother complex incarnate? Only dude 'round this sorry joint except yours truly who actually gets around saving _your_ ass now and again?"

Jak let out a deep breath. The whole rant had been listened to in silent bewilderment by Sig, and now Daxter gave him a look instead.

"Don't mind him, Big S, he's just got issues," Daxter said.

Sig looked down, past the cuts and tears from metal head claws and shots that had just barely grazed past. Looked at the unfamiliar marks, the thin, straight lines that didn't look normal. That couldn't have been done if Jak was moving at the time.

The wastelander cleared his throat.

"Well I ain't your nanny. You're too old for that, cherry. You ain't gonna make me think you can't dish it out with the worst of 'em. Not now."

He gave Jak a light slap on the arm, hearing a weak chuckle. Daxter grinned and gave him a thumbs up.

"Tell ya what, golden boy," Sig said with a slight grin of his own. "You showed me your scars, so I'll show you mine later."

"What a treat," Daxter groaned, but Jak's breathing sounded like an amused snort.

When Sig gave the salve another go, the blond managed to stay still.

A little while later Daxter stood on the ground, holding first one, then another two compresses against Jak's back while the two men in a joint effort wrapped up the shorter warrior.

"That's a good Jak," Daxter cheerfully said when he could place the clasp while Sig held the end of the bandage. "See? Doesn't kill ya to be cared about for once."

There was only a hum in reply, too soft to be annoyed.

Sig pinched the bandage to make sure that it would stay in place. Satisfied, he nodded.

"All done, cherry."

"Thanks," Jak murmured.

He turned around, pausing only to let Daxter start clambering onto his leg. After a moment Jak hooked his fingers under the ottsel's arms and lifted him the rest of the way.

"Hey, don't get me wrong buddy boy!" Daxter started up the moment he was in place in the warrior's lap. "The ground and yer scarf were getting really dang cozy and they're sure easier to sleep on than you! But sheez, when you're in that mood I don't have a choice but to keep an eye on ya."

Jak smiled.

"Go to sleep, chili peppers," Sig said. "I'll take the first guard."

He waved the begun protest off, pointing to the rolled up sleeping mat. Then, just to make his point clear he moved as if to give Jak another slap on the arm, but didn't insist as the "attack" was ducked. Still clumsy, but already moving quicker than before.

"An I'll show you my scars once we ain't in enemy territory," Sig added, chuckling slightly as Jak rolled his eyes in amused disbelief.

The End.


End file.
